


Look Up

by FagurFiskur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: “Should we be going on dates?”





	Look Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whelvenwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whelvenwings/gifts).



> this is for whelvenwings for landing second place in my 600 followers celebration game on tumblr! she requested dean/cas stargazing!

“Should we be going on dates?”

The question has been in the back of Dean’s mind for a couple of days but he didn’t mean to blurt it out at the breakfast table like that. Cas stares back at him, puzzled, coffee cup frozen mid-way to his lips.

“I don’t-” he puts the cup down. “Do you want to go on dates?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admits. “Maybe. It’s just the kind of thing regular couples do.”

Granted, he’s not exactly speaking from personal experience here. He and Lisa only went on a handful of dates the year he was living with her; they settled into the domestic routine pretty much right away and rarely left it. None of his other relationships have involved dates, unless you count making out in the backseat of the Impala as a date.

(Then again, if you’re counting that, he and Cas have been on a few dates already.)

“We’re not a regular couple,” Cas says, as if Dean needs that pointed out.

Dean shrugs. “Maybe I just wanna be romanced.”

He’s joking, mostly. Cas gets this pensive look on his face and doesn’t answer, and Dean figures the conversation is over for now. Honestly, he’s not sure what he expected by bringing it up in the first place. Cas probably isn’t interested in dates and Dean isn’t sure he is either.

Aren’t dates for getting to know the other person, anyway? They don’t need that. If anything, they know each other  _too_ well. They’ve already been through the whole courtship period and it took fucking  _years_.

Still. Maybe a little romance wouldn’t hurt.

*

Over the next couple of days, Dean tries and fails to think up some date he could take Cas on that would interest him. He’s never felt his lack of experience in the romance department so keenly. What’s so complicated about dating that he can’t even plan one lousy date his boyfriend might like?

The problem, Dean decides on the third day, is that normal dates are just too… normal for Cas. Dinner and candlelight? Cas doesn’t even eat. Going out to see a movie? Cas talks  _constantly_ when they watch movies at home, they’d get booed out of the theater in ten minutes.

He’s still puzzling this problem out when Cas approaches him that evening, holding Dean’s jacket on one arm.

“We’re going out,” he tells Dean, handing him his jacket.

Dean accepts it. “Okay?”

“We should take the Impala, which means you’re driving,” Cas tells him. “But I will give you directions.”

Cas gets bossy like this sometimes. It can be frustrating, though mostly it’s endearing (and on occasion, really fucking hot). Right now, Dean is just confused.

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” Dean asks as he shrugs his jacket on.

“It’s a surprise,” Cas tells him. He hesitates. “But it’s nothing bad.”

“So you’re not gonna take me out to some remote field to murder me?” Dean says dryly.

Cas studiously avoids his gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the most reassuring answer,” Dean tells him, but he grabs his keys and follows Cas to the garage.

 

They’ve been driving for almost an hour, with Cas staying tight-lipped and only speaking when giving Dean directions, when Cas tells Dean to pull over. Dean obeys, feeling mildly apprehensive when he discovers that they are, in fact, parked by a remote fucking field.

He kills the engine. “Not to be rude, but you didn’t actually bring me here to murder me, did you?”

“You said you wanted dates,” Cas says in lieu of answering the admittedly ridiculous question.

“I didn’t say I  _wanted-_ ”

“You said you wanted to be romanced,” Cas amends.

Dean clears his throat. “It was…”

He stops short of saying it was a joke. Because it wasn’t, really. Because if Dean is being honest with himself, he likes all that romantic shit. He likes the candlelit dinners and the movie dates and even fucking slow dancing at prom, even if he’s only got theoretical knowledge of any of them.

“Let’s step outside,” Cas suggests, unbuckling his belt.

Dean follows him outside, and the moment he steps out he realizes why Cas picked this spot.

The sky is alight with thousands of millions of stars twinkling brightly in the complete absence of artificial light, the pale glow of the milky way cutting across the inky black, and the moon shining bright and round beneath it.

It’s a sight Dean’s seen countless times in his life but it always takes his breath away.

He startles when Cas nudges his shoulder, turning around to see him holding a bottle of beer in each hand, one of which he hands to Dean.

“I don’t know much about dating,” he admits. “But I know this is something you enjoy. And it seemed quite romantic.”

“It is,” Dean tells him, accepting the offered bottle.

He hasn’t ever really thought of it that way before – seeing as how he’s done most of his stargazing with Sam – but given the context, suddenly it seems like the most romantic thing he can think of.

They lean back against the Impala’s hood, cracking their beers open. There’s no sound except the crickets and the occasional rustle of wind through the tall grass spread in front of them.

Dean takes a deep swig of his beer. “Have you ever been there?”

“A long time ago,” Cas says “I imagine some of the light reaching us now would have begun shining around the time I was there. But angels don’t generally concern themselves with the cosmos.”

“No?”

“There is only one planet that hosts God’s favored creations.”

Dean glances at Cas. He’s still looking up, a small smile on his lips. He looks gorgeous in the dim light. “But there’s other planets with life?”

“Not close to anything you would recognize.”

“Which means yes,” Dean translates.

Cas doesn’t answer. “You used to do this with Sam, didn’t you?” he asks instead.

“Yeah,” Dean says, going with the blatant change in topic. “It’s been a couple of years, though. I guess settling down in the bunker kind of changed how we operate. We don’t go seeking this stuff out much anymore. Why bother trying to make the road feel like home when you’ve got one, y’know?”

They both fall quiet. Dean takes another sip of his beer, tilting his head back so all he can see are stars and the empty darkness of space separating them. From here, they feel clustered together, crowded almost, and it’s hard to grasp that they’re actually millions of miles apart. That some of them aren’t even there anymore.

It’s humbling, in a really comforting way. Dean might carry the weight of  _this_ world on his shoulders but at least there are countless more completely unaffected by his existence one way or the other.

He tears his eyes away from the sky, turning back to Cas. He reaches for Cas’ unoccupied hand with his, grasping it firmly and giving a squeeze when Cas looks back at him, smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Thanks for this,” Dean tells him. He’s probably blushing; he can never do sincerity with Cas without feeling a little embarrassed. But he’s working on it. “We should do it again.”

Cas leans in, kissing him softly. Their lips are both cold from the chilly night air but they warm each other, and soon enough Dean’s skin is tingling.

“We should,” Cas agrees as he draws back. “You look beautiful in the starlight.”

And even though Dean was thinking the exact same thing about Cas not five minutes ago, his heart still skips a beat.

“Just keep your eyes on the skies, buster,” he mumbles.

They don’t talk after that. Dean’s not sure how long they’re out there, staring up at the sky and sipping slowly on their beer, but by the time they call it a night and get back into the Impala, Dean’s neck is aching and his fingers stiff from the cold night air.

They don’t even head back to the bunker. Instead, they curl up in the backseat, Dean’s head pillowed on Cas’ chest and their fingers intertwined. 

Come morning, Dean will probably regret this decision, but right now he could care less. He doesn’t want to leave this bubble of just the two of them and Baby and the stars above, watching over them. 


End file.
